


Not Eighteen Forever

by Whatsoever



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsoever/pseuds/Whatsoever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun is shining in Manchester and Louis Tomlinson is not prepared to be stuck at school when he could be out having adventures. </p><p>Dragging along his best mate Liam and boy-toy Harry, they set off to see what one day out and about in the city can offer them.</p><p>A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU for Reel 1D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love One Direction, I love Ferris Bueller's Day Off and I love Manchester. I hope all of those things are apparent without being too cloying.
> 
> Massive to thank you to everyone who helped me with this, my first real fic, especially Karen and Lara who read through various drafts for me and the biggest thank you to Rilla for being an insightful, helpful, extremely patient and really awesome beta.
> 
> All remaining mistakes in this work of fiction are born of my own dimness.
> 
> Title tweaked from The Courteeners' Not Nineteen Forever  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YC8FET-EGVM

_It's a beautiful day in Chicago. Temperatures in the upper 70s._

Louis woke with a jolt to overly cheerful yet nasal tones that could only scream Commercial Radio Breakfast Show presenter, and this did not please him. However seconds later, after a nauseating link to Weather Girl, news of a rare fine day in Manchester wafted his way and a plan started to form as the fog of sleep lifted.

Louis liked to think he bounded out of bed like a graceful gazelle, but he would probably have to concede that this particularly morning, he tumbled onto the floor in a sprawl of duvet and a gust of adolescence. Which was fine, whatever - a boy could still _aspire_ to graceful gazelle-hood.

A cheeky peek through the curtains suggested that Weather Girl may just have passed GCSE geography and got her predictions all tickety-boo because so far so good in Didsbury. The suburbs were looking A-OK.

Louis scratched at his ribs absent-mindedly and after extracting his mobile from the duvet, called Liam.

"Yo Liam!" he boomed, obnoxiously.

Liam made a grumbly noise, and Louis strongly suspected he was refusing to open his eyes.  "Hmmmmm?"

"What's going on, dude?"

"Ill, Louis. I'm really ill." Liam punctuated his reply with a pretty lame cough.

Louis broke into a shit-eating grin at this news. "Awesome! I fancy a skive today too."

"Lou, you didn't hear me. I'm really, properly ill. I'm in bed, I'm not up for X Box, I'm not up for watching your super-manly musicals on DVD, I just need to kip. Honestly."

Unperturbed, Louis started to strip off and head for the bathroom. "Yep, I'm sure you're dying and shit but it's a well nice day out there and I think we need to be in it, alright? I think a little adventure or two is in order today."

Liam groaned audibly, and there was a rustling sound, suggesting the covers may have been over his head.

"No shirking! Maverick needs his Goose, OK? Let's do this."

Liam paused and Louis could _hear_ the face he pulled. "Haven't you had, like, nine days off this term already? You're going to get into serious crap with Mr Cowell, mate."

By now admiring his naked form in the bathroom mirror, Louis beamed through this thought. "Nine schmine. Come on."

Louis could feel Liam had started to waver. "I can't, Lou."

"If you're not over here in fifteen minutes, you can find a new best friend."

"You've been saying that since junior school."

"And you've been complying since junior school. Look, I'm going to get in the shower. To give you a bit more time, I'm going to treat myself to a leisurely wank, and then by the time I'm dressed and my hair is looking top-drawer, you'll be round here with your dad's car and some ideas on how to extract Harry from school. Right?"

Liam sighed with melodramatic vigour. So many things in that sentence were the polar opposite of his ideal choices for the day but there wasn't much point pretending any longer that he wasn't going to capitulate to Louis' charm. It was a truth universally acknowledged that Liam capitulating was a when not  if situation, once Louis had his heart set on something. Louis knew this just as well as Liam did, and hung up with a bright "laters, loser!"

 

**_  
_**


	2. Chapter 2

_Cameron is so tight that if you stick a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have diamond_

Liam groaned and flailed his arms round in his bed before giving in, and sitting up. The implication - thick amongst Louis' unspoken words - that he wasn't really ill should have offended him, but deep down he knew it was true.  He was pretty miserable, but he was yet to find an over-the-counter remedy that helped with that.  Leafing through his immaculately ordered wardrobe, he pondered his biggest objections to Louis' plans so far.

Firstly, the inclusion of the wank news. This was not an accidental or off the cuff remark, Liam knew it was included to rile him. Whether Louis knew _why_ it made him squirm, he wasn't sure.

 Secondly the reference to his dad's car. Liam's dad had three cars, but he knew damn well which one Louis meant - the bloody E-type. It was his dad's pride and joy, and basically came out for photo opportunities, to impress business contacts and for the vintage car show at Event City. It had done fewer miles round the block than Liam supposed Mother Teresa had had sexual conquests. Liam paused momentarily at the thought her having had any sexual conquests at all, and then shook his head like an irritated puppy to try and lose that visual.  And now he was comparing his own love life to that of a dead celibate nun - wow, a real high point in his pitiful life.

Thirdly, Harry fricking Styles. Year 12, ridiculously good looking, one of the few teenage boys in the history of puberty to be entirely comfortable in his own skin, and of late, in some sort of thing with his best mate. Liam really did not fancy a day trying not to get into all manner of trouble with school for not being there _and_ watching Louis and Harry slobber all over each other. Urgh.

***

_It is his fault he didn't lock the garage_

Liam dressed listlessly, and went through the motions of brushing his teeth and carefully flossing, both of which turned out to be tricky whilst scowling. After considering and rejecting thoughts of breakfast based on Louis' arbitrarily rushed timings, he downed an alarmingly large quantity of vitamins and other assorted supplements and headed to the triple garage. His dad had taken the Range Rover Sports - his "day to day" car - leaving the E-type and the Volvo estate. Every cell of his being wanted to take the Volvo - it was practical, easy to drive and he was actually _legally_ insured to drive it - but he knew, just knew, the shit he would get from Louis for ruining his epic plan for the day wouldn't be worth it. Gingerly, he took the keys from the wall box and performed a comedic approximation of en-pointe ballet moves into the car.

There were less than a thousand miles on the car, a fact Liam had absorbed about one zillion times. Mentally, he calculated that a trip to Louis' - less than two miles away - and into Manchester and back, wouldn't take it over the magic thousand mark. He took deep breaths and visualised a fun day with Louis, followed by an evening with no comeback from his dad over the car. It's possible, he thought on the inhalation. It's unlikely, he huffed on the exhalation.  After a further deep breath in, this time accompanied by a grimace with his eyes shut, Liam started the engine and tentatively pointed the car east, towards Louis' house.


	3. Chapter 3

_The question isn't "what are we going to do", the question is "what aren't we going to do"_

When Liam cautiously pulled into Louis' driveway, praying the nosey old lady next door wasn't curtain twitching at that very moment, he wandered in to find Louis on the sofa, laptop and phone beside him, and Lorraine on mute on the TV.

"Tea?" he asked, gesturing somewhat flamboyantly to the teapot on the coffee table in front of him, whilst breaking into a grin.

Liam nodded and slumped down next to him, taking the mug as it was offered. "So what are we up to then? I'm still not sure about this..."

Louis patted his shoulder and gave him a squeezy hug. "Come on, Li!" He paused and sniffed the air. "Can you smell that? It's the smell of adventure. Honestly, we are going to have so much fun today. It's sunny, there's stuff happening - we might even find you a fitty!"

Liam glanced at Louis with a measure of panic.

"What?" Louis asked, raising one hand in question, "anyone would think you don't want to shift the V plates, dude. This could be the summer of lurrrrve, Liam Payne - starting right here, right now."

Liam shifted awkwardly in the seat and swallowed, the sound of which was deafening to his ears. Louis shot him the tiniest odd look, but then it was gone.

"So, um, you mentioned needing a plan to get Harry?" Liam offered.

Mischief seeped from every pore as Louis turned to face Liam. "How are your impressions, Payno?"

"Oh no," Liam groaned, "This does not sound like something I want to get involved with."

Louis laughed, loud and genuine. "So Harry is in music theory with Mr Barlow right about now, and it will be outstandingly shit, and I know this because I was in that class last year. I think he would really appreciate an interruption, even if it was, say, because he's lost a grandparent?"

After a moment of puzzlement, it dawned on Liam what Louis was asking.

"Oh you must be kidding," he said, shaking his head, feeling utterly horrified.

"You'll make a great Mr Styles!" Louis implored, nodding his encouragement. "Just sound authoritative with a touch of grief, no bother."

Liam took a gulp of tea and pondered whether this was the most surreal request yet he'd had from Louis. He wondered if it was an _actual_ criminal offence to impersonate someone whilst simultaneously faking the death of their parent or in-law.

"Why does it need to be me though? Why not you, he's your... you know?"

Louis raised his eyebrows and gave Liam a withering look. "Mr Cowell would never in a million years suspect you of this kind of caper, whereas me..." He paused for dramatic effect, Liam noted. "I would be top of his list of suspects should the grandparent show up alive and well at a future parents' evening or concert."

Liam conceded that this was an entirely valid point but didn't give his friend the satisfaction of actually admitting this out loud. He gestured towards the phone that was languishing on the sofa. "Go on then, let's get this over with."


	4. Chapter 4

_...roll her old bones on over here, and I'll dig up your daughter. You know that's school policy._

Liam could not have known at the time, but Mr Cowell was not in the most relaxed of moods.  He had a governors' meeting tonight and was going to be grilled on the most recent attendance and discipline figures, both of which had taken a dip as they tended to every summer term. Today was a sunny day and there had already been seven unauthorised absences, and four dubious calls in - including one in respect of Mr Cowell's  arch-nemesis, Louis Tomlinson. Mr Cowell was fairly sure heatstroke was the world's most unlikely diagnosis, given it had been grey and drizzly yesterday and Louis Tomlinson definitely did not have access to a private jet to take him to sunnier climes and back between the time school ended for the day and the next began.

The headmaster tapped away at the various spreadsheets he had on screen, and occasionally paused to enjoy the sunny view.

At the point where he felt the figures could be massaged no more, his desk phone rang.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Des Styles, calling about his son Harry from Year 12, Mr Cowell,” his secretary Sinitta told him, breathily.

"Put him through," Mr Cowell replied unenthusiastically.

"Mr Cowell, it's Des Styles here," said Liam, hoping that he had successfully quelled the nerves in his voice.

"Mr Styles, how can I help?"

"I'm calling to ask for my son to be excused,” Liam said in his best grown-up voice, "We've had a family bereavement and we think he needs to be with family."

Louis was dancing round him like Bez from The Happy Mondays  on a particularly E'd up night at the Hacienda, and did an enthusiastic double thumbs up on the word "family".

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr Styles," Mr Cowell said, "Which particular member of your family has passed away?"

Liam detected a hint of challenge in his voice and started gesticulating in a panicked but unhelpfully vague manner to Louis.

"His grandmother?" Liam replied, but it came out as more of a question than a statement.

Mr Cowell paused at the other end of the phone. "Your mother?" he asked.

" _My mother?"_ Liam mouthed in exaggerated fashion to Louis, and got a wild head shake in reply. Louis had in fact grabbed a family photo from the mantelpiece and was tapping heavily at his own mother. Liam stared, wild eyed and uncomprehending for a moment, before he answered "My wife's mother."

Louis was now doing a karate chopping motion between his mum and dad on the photo.

"My ex-wife's mother," Liam corrected.

"Your ex-wife's mother," Mr Cowell repeated, sounding even less convinced than earlier.

Liam started to feel a heady yet confusing mix of panic and buoyant adrenaline. Louis was doing an extravagant ‘wind it up' hand gesture, right in his face.

"So given his grandma's death, I would very much appreciate Harry being excused from lessons for the rest of the day," said Liam, jutting his chin and attempting a decisive closing summary.

Mr Cowell's  silence stretched for several seconds and deafened Liam.

"I'll arrange for Harry to be told and brought out of lessons," Mr Cowell finally said, "Will you be picking him up, Mr Styles?"

Liam held the phone away from his face,  pulled a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp  and - after muting - yelled “Are we picking him up?" to Louis.

"Steady Eddie, I'm only here," Louis replied, entirely nonplussed, "yeah, we can do that."

Liam's eyebrows flew up into his forehead. "How the fuck will we do that?!"

"It's fine Payno," Louis replied, waving his arms around nonchalantly, "we'll sort it."

Liam un-muted and turned his attention back to the phone. "We - I will pick him up."

"I thought I'd lost you there for a while," said Mr Cowell, and Liam felt that in that moment he'd blown it, "Let me know when you arrive and I'll bring him out. Again, my condolences to you and your _ex-_ wife."

"Thank you," said Liam, relief seeping over him like a slow and gentle tide, and clicked the phone down to hang up.

"Weelllll?" asked Louis, expectantly.

"We're in," said Liam, with a little smile, which was soon extinguished as he was knocked onto the sofa by Louis' koala hug.

Back at the school, Mr Cowell tapped his Mont Blanc pen on his desk impatiently, then picked up the phone.

"Sinitta?"

"Yes Simon?"

"Who is Harry Styles friendly with?"

Sinitta paused for a moment, and Mr Cowell heard the tell-tale rustle of her uncrossing and re-crossing her long legs.

"He's been thick as thieves with Louis Tomlinson in Year 13 recently," she started.

"Hmmm," Mr Cowell responded, frowning and spinning in his office chair.


	5. Chapter 5

_Bueller?.... Bueller?....Bueller?_

Harry was barely half way through his first lesson of the day and he had already had to use every trick in the book to avoid nodding off. He wasn't even tired - he'd spent the previous evening watching _Sex and the City the movie_ with his mum and  Gemma, and then turned in for the night at a highly respectable hour.

No, it wasn't tiredness but the utter monotony of Mr Barlow's voice and the hideous dryness of the lecture he was delivering that was entirely behind his current drooping eyelids.

"The obvious place to start when looking at unusual time signatures would be Paul Desmond's _Take Five._  Can anyone tell me what time that piece is in?  Anyone... anyone...?"

Harry didn't need to glance around to know that "anyone" was never going to materialise.

"OK, it's 5/4 time. The clue was in the title really. Can anyone think of any more recent pieces that..."

"Mr Barlow?" The music room door opened, and Sinitta shimmied in an all-too-short-for-an-educational-establishment-skirt, and a luxurious waist-length weave.

Suddenly awake and alert, Harry just about managed to get his brain to give his face the no smirking message in time.

"Harry Styles, grandma..." Sinitta stage-whispered to Mr Barlow, while making a throat cutting gesture. Whilst still urging his face not to grin, Harry momentarily pondered on a scale of 1 to Kerry Katona just how wildly inappropriate Sinitta would be as a message bearer for someone with an actual real live (wait, that didn't work... oh whatever) dead grandmother.

At least Mr Barlow had the decency to fashion his face into something akin to sympathy.

"Harry?" he said, standing up, "Would you go with Ms Malone to Mr Cowell's office? Your dad's been on the phone. Take your stuff with you, I think you'll be heading home."

Harry attempted to paint a look of mild panic and confusion on his face, while sneaking a look at his phone under the desk - "Westside!" read the text from Louis, inexplicably - and packing his bag up. There were murmurings of a vaguely concerned nature around the room, and Harry made sure he returned a few worried glances, to keep his part in the charade going.

Bumbling out of the classroom, he turned to Sinitta with a confused face.

"Oh sweetheart," she said, wrapping an arm round his shoulder in slightly too chummy a fashion, "Come with me, it's not good news I'm afraid."

"Ms Malone?" Harry asked, with the full 100 watt power of his puppy dogs.

The click-clacking of her stilettos echoed down the corridor as they headed to Mr Cowell's office, just inside the main entrance to the school.

"It's your grandma, sweetie, I'm really sorry."

Harry fleetingly pondered whether he should try and squeeze out a few tears, but couldn't bring himself to attempt it. With the combination of how unbelievably crass that would be should anyone else find out - "you were weeping at the faked death of your grandma?" -  and the surge of admiration he was feeling for the sheer audacity Louis was displaying with this stunt, there was no time for fake blubbing.

Sinitta ushered him into Mr Cowell's office, just as the man himself spun round on his ostentatious black leather chair.

"Mr Styles,” he began, and Harry noted that his face couldn't quite decide whether to look compassionate or unconvinced, "Your father has been on the phone with some bad news. Please sit if you wish?"

Harry shook his head at the nodded offer of a chair.

"Very well. I'm afraid your grandma has passed away. I'm very sorry for your loss. Your father is going to pick you up shortly as you are needed at home."

Harry nodded briskly, and wondered how the hell Louis was going to pull this one off. Phone calls were one thing, but real life impersonation? Hmmm.

The desk phone rang, and Mr Cowell made a vague hand gesture and answered it, whilst Sinitta hovered, looking unsure as to whether to leave or pull Harry into a hug. Harry made a pitiful glance her way, and she decided upon the hug option, Harry's face squished into an improbable mass of beautifully coiffed hair. 

"Yes?” Mr Cowell said into the phone, "He's there? OK, I'll be out with him now."

"Your father is here for you now, Harry,” Mr Cowell said, and Harry noted the use of his given name, and supposed he must be erring on the side of believing this little scene.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest and once again, he had to concentrate on ensuring his face didn't give the game away.

The three of them walked the matter of metres to the front doors and stopped at the top of the steps. The E-type had pulled up at the bottom of them. Harry stifled a snort at the sight of Louis in a ridiculous mac, shades and hat combo, and luckily Sinitta took it as a sob, and gave his shoulder an extra squeeze. There was a small blur of movement in the cramped back seat of the car, and with a twang of recognition, he realised Louis must have roped Liam in to help.

"My sympathies to you and your family,” said Mr Cowell, and Harry nodded to him, with his lips pressed together tightly, before heading down the steps. 

***

_Do you have a kiss for daddy?_

Harry bundled into the car with altogether more enthusiasm than the average grief-stricken teenager.

"Hi Lou," he said, through an all-encompassing grin, and added "Hey Liam," without turning round.

"Hi Harry," came the somewhat downcast reply.

Harry supposed Mr Cowell and Sinitta were probably back inside by the time Louis leaned over the central console and kissed him, playfully licking into his mouth. He missed Mr Cowell's backward glance with questioning eyebrows, but he didn't miss Liam's full body squirm of discomfort in the backseat.

"Seriously though, boy," Harry said, on breaking apart from Louis, "How the fuck did you pull this one off? My poor granny!"

"Liam Payne deserves an Oscar,” Louis declared generously, as Liam blushed feverishly.

Harry turned to face Liam, beaming, and elicited a slightly-pleased shrug by way of a response, "Good effort!"

Harry wriggled back to face the windscreen as Louis pulled out of the school grounds. "So what are we doing with this beautiful day then?"

"Ask not what we are doing with this day,” Louis replied, dramatically, putting on a pair of aviators he had found in the side pocket, “but what we are _not_ doing with this day."

"Erm, not sure that worked, but whatever,” Liam said from the back. Harry's face suggested he agreed with Liam, but Louis remained unperturbed.

"So many ideas, _mes amis_ , so many. But firstly, I think some culture is in order."

Harry turned back to look at Liam, and they shrugged at each other happily.


	6. Chapter 6

_A person should not believe in an ism, he should just be himself_

Liam's anxiety was reduced to about an eight as Louis drove less than completely stupidly down the Parkway, towards the city centre. The conversation was light and frivolous between the three of them and he could feel his shoulders dropping slightly from their usual home, which was up near his ears. He felt his jaw twitch involuntarily a few times when Louis' left hand occasionally slid from the gear stick to Harry's right thigh, with Harry's lazy grin growing.

"Are we going to the BBC?" he asked, eyebrows knitted in confusion, as they headed off the brutalist concrete artery of the city, the Mancunian Way.

Louis put his arm round the back of Harry's seat and glanced back at Liam, obnoxiously in Liam's opinion.

“I said culture, not a media studies field trip. We're going to the Lowry, and we shall leave as  art historians with a far better education than whatever poxy lessons Mr Cowell's establishment could have dredged up for any of us today." Harry barked a laugh at this, loud and sincere from the front seat.

“I don't know much about Lowry," Liam said uncertainly.

"Call yourself a Manc, Liam Payne!" Louis exclaimed, theatrically. "I am basically saving you from a terrible dearth of local knowledge. Thank god we're having this day."

"Hmm," said Liam, unconvinced but deep down a little bit pleased and excited, neither of which emotions he could quite place or understand.

The sun sparkled on the surface of the water as they pulled up alongside the quays, before turning into the multi-storey.

"It's just a bunch of stick men, isn't it?" Harry asked Louis, but Liam could see from the twinkle in his eyes that he was gently baiting him.

"Mr Styles, you should of course be thrown into those rank Salfordian waters for that comment but as that would be a crime to the female and gay male populations of our fine cities, I will refrain. For now."

Harry preened beneath Louis' compliment and laughed easily, and Liam flinched a bit.

They headed up the stairs inside the museum and started to wander round in comfortable silence for a while. Liam surprised himself by finding the stick men - Harry was right, it seemed - kind of fascinating after a while. One picture had a ghoulish looking man on crutches with a guy seemingly on a skateboard, with no legs. He felt a bit creeped out by that one, and moved on with a wince.

He heard a murmur vaguely behind him, and with a peek over his shoulder saw Louis and Harry at the other side of the gallery space, Louis' arm loosely round Harry's waist. Harry's head was curled in, chin nuzzling the side of Louis head gently as he whispered some shared, private joke. Liam tried to ignore the weird lurch in his stomach and took a deep breath and swallowed purposefully, heading towards the next canvas.

He looked up and something about it stopped him in his tracks, the proceeding moments of unease at once forgotten. The subjects of the painting were heading _en masse_ towards some huge smoking industrial towers on the horizon.

Sixth form was almost over.  He knew this, but suddenly it felt real and looming, and just... God, so frightening. His shoulders started to tense again and he had to take a few deep breaths and felt pathetic for it. The little people all had their heads down, battling against some oppressive force - factory owner, monotony or the Northern weather, who could tell? - and Liam wondered if that was what his post-school, post-uni-if-he-made-it life had in store for him.

Just as a sense of all-pervading malaise was setting in, Liam felt two hands clamp down on his shoulders and it was all he could do not to jump three feet in the air and scream like a girl.

"Deep in thought?" asked Louis brightly and a little too loud for the gallery.

"Hmmm," Liam mumbled in response, in what must have been a failed attempt at nonchalance if Harry's sympathetic arm-link and slight forearm squeeze was anything to go by.

"It didn't look much of a life, did it?" Harry said. "Bet people there didn't talk about careers and work-life balance and commutes."

Liam sighed in agreement.

"Enough, boys," Louis said with a tone that suggested this avenue of discussion was now closed. "I feel a bit peckish. Shall we dine?"

Liam and Harry exchanged a symmetrical glance-cum-shrug, and their funny little threesome headed back out.


	7. Chapter 7

_That's right I'm Abe Froman._

_The sausage king of Chicago?_

Louis felt like The Man as they headed back into Manchester. He had to try _really_ hard not to just put his foot down and really go for it, but he sensed he had pushed Liam as far as he could by getting him to take the car already, and a speeding ticket or worse could kill off their friendship.

"Hey Lou?" said Liam from the back seat, and a glance in the rear view mirror confirmed a very definite forehead crease of concern had formed, "Where are we going to be driving for the rest of the day? Because we're getting a bit close to 1,000 miles and I think my dad will defo notice if it goes over." Louis glanced down - 985 miles.  It was indeed close to the 1,000 mark. Maths was not Louis' strong point but he reckoned they could just about do this.

"We'll be alright," he replied with his best reassuring face, "We can totally do this under the grand mark."

"What exactly are the plans?" Harry asked, in a drawl that suggested he was kind of happy with whatever.

Louis grinned, all teeth and sunshine. "Yours is not to reason why, my dearest Harold."

Harry cocked his head slightly and laughed. "OK then."

Louis had a sort of plan, but he enjoyed keeping them both guessing. Also he liked the whole options open thing rather a lot, so he planned to stick with it as long as possible. As days went, this was turning out to be a pretty good one. He was pretty much with his favourite two people in the world right now, in a borrowed E-type, with the run of the city. Yup, school be damned, this was the life.

The sun was uncharacteristically persistent as they swung past the Bridgewater Hall and turned left. Harry looked into the back at Liam, they shrugged at each other and Louis smiled a tiny smug smile to himself. As he pulled up outside the Midland Hotel, he sounded the horn in a vulgar fashion, and two members of staff headed out of the hotel towards the car.

"Hello Sir..." the elder of the two trailed off as he saw three teenagers in the car, "Erm..."

"Gentleman," said Louis brightly, turning off the ignition and wagging the keys in the air, "Please guard this car with your life." He could feel Liam's weird panicky breathing against the back of his neck.

"Seriously guys, please please please," Liam interrupted with no hint of an attempt to hide the pleading tone to his voice.

"Matt," the guy said to Liam, poking his hand into the window by Harry and into the back in a stab at a hand shake, "and this is Aiden."  Aiden nodded with little sign of actually caring about the situation.

"Liam," Liam responded weakly.

"We will absolutely guard it with our lives," Matt told Liam, and if Louis spotted Aiden's disingenuous grin behind Matt's back, he didn't mention it to Liam.

Louis handed the keys over as the boys clambered out of the car and piled into the hotel. He strode in the front door and towards the connecting door to The French restaurant. Liam shot him an alarmed look, which Louis purposefully didn't respond to, and so he redirected it towards Harry. Harry did a hands-sweep-down-scruffy-t-shirt gesture in response, and hung back slightly, tugging Liam by the sleeve gently.

Louis continued, unperturbed. "Table for three, please," he announced with a smile of mega-watt proportions to a man dressed unseasonably in a three piece suit.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?" he responded with a smile which just about touched his mouth and went nowhere near his eyes.

"Of course," Louis shot back, "Clint Boon and party."

He had no idea why the some-time Inspiral Carpets keyboardist and DJ was the first person who came to mind to impersonate, but once he felt the vowel-heavy surname leave his lips, he was stuck with it.

The man paused, somewhat thrown, before gaining his snooty composure. "Noel Gallagher learned everything he knows about music from you?"

Louis felt an uncharacteristic loss of nerve flash through him but before he could react, big hands clapped him on the back.

"Clint!" bellowed Harry, "Good to see you mate. Taste's improved, I see?" Harry nodded and grinned widely at the snooty guy on the door. "Alright dude, my stomach feels like my throat's been cut. This fancy nosh better be good."

"Follow me please, Mr Boon," he replied, the no-eyes smile back in force, "I have a table for you by the window."

"Something further into the restaurant would be better, thanks mate," Louis replied quickly.

"Very well, Sir."

Liam just about remembered to close his gaping jaw and make his feet move, as Harry and Louis both winked over their shoulders at him.


	8. Chapter 8

_Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it._

Unbelievably, as they finished their very pretty, very precise and very pretentious lunch, the snooty waiter returned and very quietly spoke into Louis' ear. Liam watched the exchange carefully - some would call it flat out staring - but he could tell from the joy that Louis was trying very hard to contain using only his facial muscles, that whatever he said was good.

"What'd he say?" Liam asked as soon as Snooty was more than an inch from the table.

Louis stopped even attempting to conceal his delight.

"Everything is on the house as an apology for the implication that Clint Boon is not who he says he is," Louis replied, puffing his chest out in a show of self-congratulation.

Harry barked another laugh. "Wow Clint, you really did teach Noel everything he knows. I had no idea how we were going to pay that bill otherwise."

"That I did, my boy, that I did," Louis replied, with a pat to Harry's curls, "And to be honest neither did I."

Liam's eye brows rose involuntarily - he hadn't even thought about how they were going to pay. It wasn't at all like him not to think of something so important, but the thrill of getting in impersonating someone and then a fun meal had kind of overtaken his usual concerns for the practical details.  He had even stopped baulking every time Louis or Harry touched each other.

A faint hint of music had begun to waft into the restaurant, and Liam cocked his head towards it, instinctively.

"What's that?" he asked.

Harry frowned as he listened. “‘s not Pride this afternoon is it?"

Liam would swear later that he could genuinely see adrenaline thrum through Louis' actual veins, if not also his arteries, the very second Harry asked that question.

"Ohmigodlads," Louis said, "Let's get amongst it."

***

_It's one of my personal favourites and I'd like to dedicate it to a young man who doesn't think he's seen anything good today - Cameron Frye, this one's for you._  

Liam followed the others out, almost at a canter to keep up with Louis who was in a frenzy of excitement by the time they spilled back out into the street.

It very much was Pride, and the streets were now full of spectators. Looking up the street to their right, the first floats were making their way along Princess Street.

"Have you been to the parade before?" Harry asked Liam.

Liam shook his head tightly, but he was really curious and wanted to know what this whole thing was all about. The music was getting louder and he started to feel a tingle of excitement under his skin.

His eyes were on stalks, as he looked from one float to the next. There were a lot of showgirls (although he wasn't 100% sure they were girls) and also many men who appeared to have spent a lot of  hours in the gym, but had lost their shirts and instead found baby oil in their haste to get dressed this morning.  One float had half a dozen strong looking men in what appeared to be loin cloths and enormous angel wings with wig-slash-halo headdresses.  A Village People tribute act was belting out YMCA, but bafflingly the cowboy and the construction worker had stopped singing and were dry humping each other against the speaker stack. Liam felt he was rapidly losing control of his face, wanting to soak everything in, but unable to hide his surprise at all the new sights in front of him.

Liam looked up to see where Louis would inevitably herd them to, but -

"Um, where's Lou?" asked Harry.

Of course Louis had disappeared. Liam sighed, a touch melodramatically, and Harry laughed.

"Come on," he said, offering an arm to Liam, "Let's head that way and watch a few floats. He'll find us when he's calmed down and stopped running around like he's the only gay teenager in the village."

Liam couldn't help but laugh at that, because that _was_ a pretty great approximation of Lou, galloping off like a crazy fool. After a beat, he linked his arm with the one Harry offered.

"So what are you all about, you two?" Harry asked as they strolled.

"Um," Liam stuttered ineloquently, the tension returning somewhat, "I don't really. Um, understand?"

Harry glanced at him, his face not really giving Liam any clues as to what he was getting at.

"You know," Harry added, and Liam could 100% categorically state he did not know.

"We've been mates forever," Liam replied cautiously, but he was pretty sure that didn't answer the question.

Harry quirked his eyebrows. Liam had started to feel exhausted by this conversation.

"Are you gay, Liam?"

Liam felt his insides freeze momentarily and a choked noise ventured from his throat but then something he would absolutely not have predicted, decided to save him.

"Holy fuck, Louis!" Harry yelled, and Liam literally smacked into his back as Harry stopped dead on the pavement.

There in front of them, standing by a seven foot drag queen Heather Small on the back on an enormous float, was Louis. He looked somewhere between a small but perfectly formed teenage emperor, and insanity personified.

"YOU'RE INSANE!" Harry yelled into cupped hands, voice swallowed by the cheering crowds.

Liam found himself temporarily mute, mouth stuck in an O shape. Drag queen Heather Small bent down - no mean feat, given the foot and a half height difference - and whispered something in Louis' ear, and then handed him a spare mic, whipped from her sizeable bosom.

Liam and Harry looked at each other at the exact same moment, wide eyed, and then burst out laughing. At that very moment, Louis spied them both in the crowd and pointed to them with great relish.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman," Louis started, and Liam felt all manner of panic and excitement coursing through his veins.

"My name is Louis Tomlinson, thank you very much for having me. This next one is for Liam Payne. I hope you're enjoying your day off!"

Liam flushed bright red and fleetingly thought he might actually faint. He didn't miss Harry's brief glance at him, and his poorly concealed smirk.

Up on the float, Louis and Heather launched into a meticulously lip synced version of Moving on Up, whilst down on the ground, Harry leapt around ineptly on the pavement singing along. His singing was rather superior to his dancing, Liam noted wryly. He turned his attention solely to Louis, and the boy was holding his own up there. Liam had no idea that Louis had been hiding such a flawless working knowledge of the early nineties discography of M People but it was really rather endearing in action. Not that Liam needed reason to be endeared, obviously.

As the song ended, Liam's muteness and feelings of faintness long behind him, they burst into jubilant cheers and applause, and somehow Louis found his way back to them. He launched into a hug with a laughing Harry, and paused for a millisecond before Liam had his, more lingering, turn. Louis was sweaty but Liam couldn't bring himself to be disgusted. His skin prickled like electricity where Louis, positively buzzing with adrenaline, pressed against him.

"You said it was for me!" Liam burst out, cringing as the words left his mouth.

"It was, you daft sod," Louis replied, laughing and giving Liam's arm an extra squeeze, "It's all about you," he added, more quietly.  "You know, today."

Louis and Liam stared at each other quietly for a beat, and then Louis, seemingly aware this was not a conversational alley he wanted to venture down, visibly shook himself like a dog returning from a venture into the sea.

"I don't know about you lads, but I need a drink," he announced brightly, and Harry murmured his approval.

"Payno?" he asked, with the tiniest hint of challenge.

"Sure," Liam replied, "where do you fancy? The locks?"

Louis paused, as if to contemplate his options.

"I'd like to survey our great city, I think," he replied, "See where we should take ourselves next from an excellent vantage point."

Harry caught on more quickly than Liam, if his smile was anything to go by.

"Cloud 23?"

Louis smiled and nodded. "To the Hilton, boys."

***

As they set off back down Peter Street, Louis' phone rang. He peered at the display carefully, and Liam thought he saw  Game Face - the face Louis used when carrying out a plan or anything involving acting - appear briefly before he answered.

"Louis Tomlinson," he answered, with a sort of strained tone.

Liam and Harry both went quiet by his side.

"No, they don't think it's actual kidney _failure_ yet,” Louis continued.

Liam and Harry exchanged a look, shock and awe apparent in their faces.

"Rest and medication at the moment.  No, no dialysis. Yet. The noise? Just the radio by my bed."

Harry had to bite his sleeve not to laugh at that point, given their proximity to a float playing hard house in the middle of the day, and Louis made a fingers on lips gesture and glared at him. Liam was so stunned that Louis was going to this much effort to show him a fun day that he couldn't laugh. But on reflection, he realised Louis would probably devise excuses this elaborate whether or not Liam was involved, and this thought significantly relaxed him.

"Thanks for calling, babe," Louis said, before hanging up.

"Who was that?" Harry asked, before shaking his head with a chuckle and muttering “Unbelievable!"

"Cher Lloyd from your year," Louis replied grinning, "Apparently there's a rumour going round I need a kidney transplant and they've started shaking collection buckets to raise money for me to have an operation in America."

"Louis!" Liam interjected, with a bit of outrage, "You can't let them do that!"

"Cool it granddad," Louis said, pinching Liam's cheeks not unkindly, "I won't take their bloody money and I toned down the rumour in case you didn't hear me. But it doesn't hurt to let it sound like I'm poorly-sick, now does it?"

Liam had to admit an illness backstory was a bit helpful with an absence record like Louis'. And with that, on they marched.


	9. Chapter 9

They headed along Deansgate, dodging the crowds lining the street for the continuing parade. They proceeded through the Hilton's revolving door and towards the entirely unnecessary red carpet and velvet rope, to the bottom of the lifts.

It was quiet, and the clipboard Nazi let them into the lift nonchalantly. Louis was still buzzing from the float performance but he was replaying the post-performance hug with Liam more than his turn up there, and he needed to douse those feelings in alcohol and a side dish of Harry before he felt the need to _think._

Louis crowded Harry a little in the lift, and attempted a little arse-gropage as he went in for the kiss, but Harry was less than forthcoming. The holding back thing was new. Louis could absolutely never remember that having happened before and he really didn't know how to react. A throat-clearing gooseberry cough from Liam shook him from his analysis, and then the lift deposited the three of them at the twenty third floor.

An eyebrow quirking waiter showed them to a table along the edge of the room, and the floor to ceiling glass gave them an amazing view over the south west of the city on such a beautiful clear day.

Harry busied himself with the cocktail menu, but Louis was dizzy with energy and settled on bugging Liam.

"Come and see this, Li," he implored, tugging his sleeve a little and pulling Liam over to the other side of the room. Liam shrugged and did as he was told.

Louis stopped at a slightly scuffed oblong of glass in the floor by some over-made up WAG lookalikes.

"Ladies," he nodded, flashing them his best grin. The table's reaction was 50/50 between charmed but blushing - because, teenagers, but fit ones! - and sneering irritation.

"What are we looking at?" Liam asked softly.

"Down," Louis pointed, and they looked through the glass and for the second time that day, could see tiny stick people.

"We're looking down into the swimming pool, and then across from that, people walking on the street. Cool, huh?"

Liam smiled, first at the ground and then whilst looking up at Louis. "Actually yeah. That is kind of cool."

Louis got that weird tummy feeling that signalled 'that's enough of that thank you', and led them back to the table decisively.

"So, what's it to be, Haz?"

"Vertigo I reckon," Harry replied, "But they're almost a tenner a pop, Lou."

Louis pulled two twenties from his back packet. "No problem, kiddo."

"Where did they come from?" Liam asked in a rush.

"Have faith," Louis replied, "Heather is a generous lady."

Louis could tell Liam was contemplating why on earth Heather would give him money, but he could also tell he was going to leave it there for reasons of both pragmatism and decorum.

"Alright," Liam replied dragging out the vowels uncertainly, "I better go soft though" - and the blush as he realised what he'd said hadn't escaped  Louis' attention - "you know, the car and stuff."

"You have a drink," said Louis with uncharacteristic selflessness, "I'll have a Coke."

***

Liam's mind drifted back to the Lowry and thoughts of the future. He wondered if he'd end up at uni, with friends who, like Louis, he’d be prepared to run to the end of the world and back for. Who would plan a load of crazy things to do around town just to make him smile. He thought it was rather unlikely.

He contemplated the alternative, getting an actual real live job like his dad. His dad who worked all the hours God sent, who they never really saw and who rarely smiled. His dad, who he strongly suspected was living the age-old cliché of having an affair with his secretary.

Alternatively there was his mum who didn't work but made a job out of that fact. She was on every committee, in every club, on every social sports team in a five mile radius. Liam suspected this might be to avoid his dad on the few occasions he was actually in the house, and to stop her wondering whether he was indeed having a secretarial affair.

He thought about other people and it didn't all seem so bleak. Louis' mum was a midwife and loved her job - so maybe there was something out there for him. He could feel his face tensing up again thinking about it. The very nature of his thoughts seemed too big for his head, somehow.

"Come on, let's see what's going on out there in the big wide world," Louis said, jostling Liam away from his thoughts with his shoulder.

They all went over to the window, and pressed their faces to it after the waiter had taken their orders.

"Cricket's on today," Harry said lethargically, nodding towards Old Trafford, "Niall's working the gates this afternoon."

Louis didn't need a second bite at that particularly dangly cherry.

"Niall gets you in the gates sometimes, doesn't he?"

"Yeah but..."

"Could your sunny smile persuade him to let a couple of your mates in too?"

Harry set his mouth in a straight line. "Wellllll... I could call him?"

Louis broke into another sunshine smile. "I think we have our next port of call, gentleman. Britain's premier upper-class sport of enduring dullness it is!"

The clinking of glass signalled the waiter returning with their drinks, so they headed back to the table, Louis buzzing with a sense of his own awesomeness again. Harry called Niall, and Liam gave him a try of his cocktail - which they all agreed was 105% better than a beer.

Louis' phone rang again. He glanced down and saw an unknown number.

"Louis Tomlinson?" he answered hesitantly.

"Oh hi, Katie," he said, pulling a face at the boys, and getting two pulled faces back from them in response. Katie Waissel was not one of their favourite school mates.

"Jesus, how much do you think I drink? No, not cirrhosis, just an inflamed liver. Thanks but no. Like, steroids and stuff. No, I'm not on the transplant list but thank you for getting a donor card. Thank you mum for me too. Urgh, I feel really sick so I better go. Bye."

Liam looked at Louis and huffed a little laugh, and Louis shrugged in return. "What can you do?" he asked, "wild imagination, these kids."

Louis put his hand on Harry's knee absentmindedly as they drank, and he knew he wasn't imagining it when Harry pulled away again - minutely, but definitely. He looked up at him, but he studiously ignored Louis' look and pointedly asked Liam something about his views on cricket instead. Louis tried in vain to think what he had done to piss Harry off but gave up without an answer after a good twenty seconds of hard thought.

They didn't stay for a second drink, and after a very brief debate on car versus tram, decided to get the Met out to Old Trafford.


	10. Chapter 10

_What's the score? Nothin' nothin'. Who's winning? The Bears._

They met Niall at the turnstile, as arranged with Harry over the phone.

Niall was in Harry's year at school but had left after GCSEs so wasn't doing sixth form. Liam didn't really know him other than to nod a hello to, but Niall was one of those people _everyone_ could nod hello to - he appeared to know everyone below the age of 25 within a particularly wide radius of the city, helped in no small amount by being in about five bands at any one time. Liam had never yet met someone who didn't like him. He had in fact found himself wishing he was like Niall, with his confident, easy, friend-of-the-people manner.

"Lads!" Niall greeted them, amiably, "There's about five old codgers and a dog in there so I can't promise you the world's most exciting atmosphere but if you see ginger Ed on the bar he'll sort you out with a couple of pints at least."

"Cheers dude," Harry said, giving him a one armed hug and one of his best smiles.

"So what are you boys up to today?" Niall asked, "Apart from watching a rip roaring Lancashire game, that is."

"Showing Liam here how to take a day off," Louis responded immediately.

"And how's that working out for ya?" Niall asked.

Liam thought for a moment, and rubbed his chin lightly with his hand. "Not too shabby," he replied, with a small smile.

"Well there ya go," Niall replied, vaguely, "Have a good one lads. And remember, ginger Ed, OK?"

"Ginger Ed it is, Nialler," Harry replied with a mock salute, "Definitely not big Mary - I know the drill."

They headed up to the nearest stand and Niall wasn't wrong about the crowd - there literally was a guy who'd brought his border collie with him. This was not the beer served out of backpacks, 4 and 6 score card wafting, Mexican waving, football chanting atmosphere of the Twenty Twenty matches.

Liam was not at all sure what to make of this, having never been to county cricket before. Louis disturbed his train of thought by taking in an exaggerated breath and spreading his arms to the stand like an king surveying his people.

"Breathe in, boys. That is the smell of British tradition."

Liam burst out laughing, and didn't stop when Louis looped an arm round his shoulder and pretended to punch him.

They found some seats - well, they didn't really need to look hard - and Harry got up to go to the bar.

"I'll go," Louis offered, "Who do I need to see again?" They burst out laughing in unison, and didn't stop until they started gasping unattractively.

Once Louis was gone, Liam and Harry sat in a pregnant silence for a few moments.

"So," Harry started.

"So?" Liam countered, tentatively.

Harry looked at Liam, and Liam didn't know why this made him feel so nervous. He liked Harry, although he knew him in a pretty limited sense as Louis' reasonably recent mate and _whatever._ More to avoid any more of Harry's questions than anything else, he decided to ask some questions of his own. Attack is the best form of defence, and all that.

"So you and Lou then," Liam started cautiously. He wasn't even sure whether that counted as a question, so he had no idea whether Harry would treat it as such.

"Umm," Harry muttered as a response of sorts, "Not sure I'm following you?"

Liam rearranged his face into something that was supposed to resemble cheery indifference. "Are you, like, a thing then?"

Harry did quite an unattractive snort. "A thing?"

Liam wasn't entirely sure if Harry was laughing at him or just laughing. There was definite laughter emanating from Harry though. All the laughter, in fact. And more snorting. Liam felt his ears heat up, then his cheeks and finally his chest. It was like sunstroke hitting instantaneously, and he was starting to feel like he was curling up at the edges. Harry must have noticed because the snort-laughing stopped abruptly.

"Sorry Liam, I didn't... I wasn't laughing at you, promise. It's just - no, no thing, OK? We're...mates who occasionally-"

"GENTLEMEN!"

And with that siren call Louis returned, balancing three squidgy plastic cups precariously in his hands. Liam was overwhelmingly relieved that the world's most awkward conversation was over, although from the corner of his eye he sensed Harry didn't feel the same way.

"How are my two favourites?" Louis asked, handing out the beers.

Liam plastered on a smile, which he knew Louis could see right through, and Harry made a vaguely cheerful comment about dying of thirst, before slugging back some of his beer. Louis had got himself Coke again, Liam noted. Since when was Louis the considerate, sensible one? It weirded him out a little bit, but he tried not to dwell on it too much.

Louis got them watching the match for a bit, and soon Liam had forgotten about SuperAwkwardGate. Then he remembered, and realised that Louis could always deflect and make people comfortable. He had a little pause, and smiled to himself at the thought. Louis looked over and caught him.

"What are you grinning at?" he asked, ruffling his hair in an extremely manly fashion.

Liam didn't even mind being caught out. "Not a lot," he replied, "Just having a nice day I guess."

"Good," Louis replied succinctly, and Liam detected a little bit of pride in the small smile on his face.

They continued to watch good-naturedly as essentially absolutely nothing happened for an hour or so. Ginger Ed gave them two more rounds of drinks, with only one narrow escape from big Mary, so all in all it had worked out pretty well.

Liam felt pleasantly tipsy and loose limbed in the afternoon sunshine, and wished he had the nerve to skive more often as it had been a rather excellent day so far.

Harry stretched. "I'm going to have to start thinking about home, boys," he said, "I need to make sure there aren't any dead grandma messages on the answer machine before my mum gets home from work, or I'll be in all manner of shit."

Liam and Louis both barked a laugh. "Was that even today?" Liam said, amazed that he had been a part of it.

Louis threw a fond look in his direction. "Contemplating a career in impressions?"

Liam laughed some more and nodded towards the field. "Shall we all head into town? I have no idea what is going on, let alone when this might end."

Louis chuckled again. "Yeah, good call I reckon. Let's head back and pick up the car." And out they ambled, Louis slinging an arm round each of the other two.


	11. Chapter 11

The trip back into town on the tram was a bit of a nostalgia-fest. Louis instigated an aggressive game of tag through the carriages, much to the annoyance of some tutting passengers.  Half a dozen jolly hockey sticks Year 11s from Withington Girls got involved and by the time the boys fell out of the doors at G-Mex (Louis refused to update his tram station vocabulary to Deansgate-Castlefield for important reasons) they were pink cheeked, grazed-of-elbow and out of breath in almost the best possible way.

"Nervous about the car?" Harry asked Liam.

Liam shrugged with a lazy smile, which in turn made Louis' lips twitch involuntarily.

They headed back to the car park, and found Matt and Aiden sitting with their feet up on some deckchairs by the entrance sharing a couple of cigarettes with a ridiculously cool guy with dark hair who was inexplicably wearing a leather jacket despite the June heat.

"Alright boys!" Matt said, grinding a butt out under his heel, whilst Aiden just made a bizarre giggling noise behind him.

"Hi Harry," said leather jacket boy.

Louis saw actual sparks pop up around the younger boy's eyes.

"Zayn!" Harry replied, failing to sound casual in any way, shape or form, "What are you doing here?"

Zayn inclined his head towards Matt, and made an indistinct gesture which Louis assumed was supposed to resemble a spliff.

Louis had never met Zayn before, but more than that, was surprised to find Harry had kept his entire existence a secret from him.

If Louis had prodded Harry for the information, he might have found out that Harry had met Zayn the previous month at an open evening at the art college Gemma attended. Zayn was in the year below Gemma - they vaguely knew each other and Gemma had introduced him to Harry as Zayn silently admired some charcoal pieces Gemma had on display. Harry had nearly melted on the spot with lust and general admiration (Zayn's work was also on display, and primarily graffiti based) whilst Zayn and Gemma graciously pretended not to notice as he all but drooled on a really terrible sculpture that was unlucky enough to be close by.  They had met again ten days later at a battle of the bands event that Niall was playing in, and ended the evening with some enthusiastic snogging in the outdoor smoking yard. Harry hadn't mentioned Zayn to anyone other than Gemma yet, as he didn't really believe someone as cool as Zayn could be interested and didn't want to jinx anything before it had begun. He and Louis, during their short friendship, usually discussed their crushes in excruciating and sexually explicit detail, but Zayn felt a bit different to him.

***

With no real urgency, Aiden got up and went to get the keys and retrieve the Jag.

"You boys heading back towards Didsbury?" Zayn asked, before introducing himself and offering his hand to Louis and Liam in the coolest handshake either of them had ever seen.

"We can drop Zayn off, can't we Lou?" Harry asked, with the rampant enthusiasm of a puppy.

Louis shrugged, mostly amused as Harry had never breathed a word about this guy before and was now practically panting and mounting his leg. "Sure we can."

Aiden drove the car up alongside them, and Louis tipped him the leftover money from Heather. This time, Liam took the front seat alongside Louis for the return journey.

They headed back out towards the Parkway, just early enough that the rush hour traffic hadn't yet hit the one way systems of the city centre.

"Good day, Payno?" Louis asked, the aviators once again adorning his face.

Liam looked across as him and smiled. "You know it was!" and Louis returned his smile, wide and genuine.

Louis glanced down at the milometer, and did a double take.  1,218 miles. He tried to keep a neutral face and transmit none of his panic to Liam but it was too late.

"What's up?" Liam asked, peering at the dashboard.

"Umm," Louis replied, uncharacteristically short of words.

A weird silence permeated the car as Liam's eyes settled on the number, very much larger than one thousand.

"Oh," said Liam.

Harry slipped forwards and looked. "Oops," he added unhelpfully.

"What?" asked Zayn.

"It needed to be under a thousand," Harry supplied.

"Shit man," Zayn added, and they all looked towards Liam for his reaction. For a few minutes he just sat stock still and didn't make another sound. Louis started biting his lip, expecting some sort of explosion of repressed anger at any moment.

 "Fuck it," Liam proclaimed, "Just fuck it. What is the fucking point of a car that doesn't get fucking driven?"

The other three left out a collective sigh and then all started laughing, nervously at first and then heartily.

"Really?" Louis asked.

Liam shrugged. "Come back to mine and let's hit the old man's brandy while we're at it, eh? In for a penny, in for a pound!"

Louis did another double take - this was not a Liam Payne he had met before but he liked him instantly.  Then he glanced in the rear view mirror, about to ask Zayn for directions, and found the occupants of the backseat almost devouring each other.

They broke apart sheepishly when Louis whistled loud and shrill before raising his eyebrows at Harry. Harry looked back blushing, mouth slick and red from such enthusiastic kissing. Zayn smiled and shrugged, arm staying firmly round Harry's shoulder.

They dropped Harry and Zayn off in Burnage to continue to ravage each other in a non-vehicular environment, and carried on towards Liam's.

"I thought you and Harry...?" Liam asked, tongue looser with drink.

"Nah," Louis replied, "Nah, not really anything like that," and Louis could have sworn Liam visibly relaxed.


	12. Chapter 12

Sinitta shimmied into Mr Cowell's office with a telephone note and a small smile.

"Yep?" Mr Cowell asked distractedly.

"I've had a call from an old lady," Sinitta started.

Mr Cowell sighed. It was an inauspicious start, and he didn't like the places this story could potentially go.

"She was on the tram into town and there was apparently a kerfuffle."

Mr Cowell raised an eyebrow. "What kind of a kerfuffle?"

"Apparently there were some Withington girls and some boys running up and down sending things flying. She said she recognised the boys as Parrs Wood, from the time she came to see Grease last term."

Mr Cowell sighed, more deeply this time.

"Did they cause any actual damage? And do we know who they were?"

Sinitta looked down at her telephone note for a prompt.

"The short one with rolled up trousers knocked her shopping bag over while swinging off the grab rail, but the 'rather handsome one' apologised and the curly haired one helped her pick it up, apparently. She was actually calling to praise his manners for helping her."

Mr Cowell shook his head, his mouth a tight line.

"Tomlinson. Styles." he muttered.

If Liam could have heard him, he would have been simultaneously relieved and disappointed not to have been recognised as part of the frivolities.

"So no actual complaint then?"

"No complaint," Sinitta replied, with a small smile.


	13. Chapter 13

_The place is like a museum. It's very beautiful and very cold and you're not allowed to touch anything._

They headed in to Liam's house, where Louis had been about a billion times before. Unlike Louis' own house - which with five kids and a very busy mum, was usually loud, chaotic but kind of lovely - Liam's house was tidy and quiet and sort of hushed, like a church might be.

Liam kicked off his shoes in the hall and Louis followed suit.

"Brandy?" Liam asked, and Louis could have sworn there was a look of _mischief_ on his face.

"Why not?" Louis replied with a grin.

Liam led him through to a room Louis had never been in before, and which he didn't realise existed. There was a big leather covered desk, with a desktop computer and a bunch of papers, a floor to ceiling bookshelf which mainly held hardback non-fiction books, a small sofa and a chair. There was a B&O stereo on the desk, a shed-load of CDs and opposite the sofa, a drinks cabinet worthy of Pat Butcher's living room.

"How the hell have I never been in a room in your house?" Louis asked, unsure whether to feel shocked or offended by this fact. "I've been here almost every day forever."

"I'm not really allowed in here. It's my dad's study," Liam shrugged. He got two crystal tumblers out of a little cupboard in the drinks cabinet and poured a couple of rather generous brandies. They clinked glasses sombrely and had a rare quiet moment. Liam got up and fiddled with a pile of CDs for a while, eventually settling on _Channel Orange_ before he sat back down on the floor. Louis had a sudden, creeping sensation that there was too much space between them, but at the same time they were far too close together. He had no idea what to do with those thoughts. He looked up, just as Liam looked up too, and peeked almost shyly up at him from under his eyelashes.  Louis started to freak out a little bit in his head. He had never thought about Liam's eyelashes before, except... except that now he started to think about it, he always thought about his eyelashes. And the rest of his face. And his arms - oh god, he had really really good arms. _Fuck_.

"Lou? Are you OK?" Liam asked, and when Louis looked up, Liam was sporting the worried, creasy forehead look.

"I… umm," Louis stuttered, and Louis Tomlinson did not do stuttering for fuck's sake. And now he could feel his face heating up. This was ridiculous. What the fucking fuck was going on? He sneaked a look at Liam, and confusingly, he was now looking quite chilled. Borderline confident, he might even say. This panicked Louis even more. This was not the Louis 'n' Liam dynamic he was used to. Not at all.

And then Liam moved - minutely, but moved nonetheless - towards him. Liam took a sip of his drink, and then as he lowered his arm it brushed against Louis' arm and Louis almost jumped out of his skin.

"I thought you and Harry were together and I was really jealous," Liam said suddenly, the words spilling from his mouth like a river bursting banks that had been dammed for far too long.

"What?" Louis exclaimed, words going unprocessed in his head.

Liam took an audibly loud inward breath. "I was jealous," he repeated, "Because I think I fancy you. Maybe."

"Maybe?" Louis repeated, again not really making any brain cells fire up.

Liam laughed softly. "Don't take the piss, Lou."

"I'm not!" Louis spluttered, "Honestly! I'm just... having a moment. I think. Possibly?" He could feel his heart and he was starting to think it might leave his chest cavity shortly, via his ribcage.

But then he stopped worrying about his heart, because Liam leaned forwards, reached his arm round his back gently and then just kissed him. No intro, no nothing, just straight in with the lips. Liam pulled back slightly and looked Louis in the eye, and Christ almighty, how had he never noticed how fit he was? In all these years, right under his nose. Liam.

Louis grabbed at Liam and pulled him back in, no pretence at gentleness, kissing him full force and Liam responded by grasping at his back, pulling a handful of t-shirt into his palm and making a part sigh part groan, which went straight to Louis' dick. Before he had time to ponder that confusing yet delightful feeling, Liam was scrabbling up and pulling at Louis' arm, and he realised he was clumsily attempting to move them towards the sofa. Louis downed his brandy using his free arm, and let himself be manhandled. God, Liam was manhandling him. This was going to go down in the top ten ridiculously amazing surprises of all time.

They tumbled onto the too-small sofa and Louis crawled on top of Liam, every nerve ending in his skin fizzing as it pressed against Liam, kissing him greedily. He ground down against him experimentally, cock firming up nicely, and was so excited to be greeted by a similarly hard Liam that he nearly fell off the sofa. Liam - who was apparently the more quick-witted one in this rapidly developing situation - reacted by grabbing Louis' arse with both hands, and Louis involuntarily moaned.

"Steady on, Tommo," Liam mumbled against his mouth, between increasingly frantic kisses, and Louis couldn't help but laugh in reply.

Liam was positively _writhing_ beneath Louis now, their crotches pushed together deliciously. Louis could feel his breath in little puffs, and then he started to panic he might actually come in his pants on this sofa in Liam's dad's secret study, and he did not like that thought one bit.

As luck would have it, it appeared Liam didn't like that thought much either, because he started to make a decent stab at undoing Louis' jeans.

"Are we really doing this?" Louis asked, a barely disguised look of awe settling on his flushed face.

Liam's serious face returned, briefly, but all Louis could see was that his lips were red and puffy from kissing and his brain was yelling "I did that and it's ridiculously hot and it's Liam and this is mental" all at once.

Liam's hand paused, and Louis felt panicked again - this time because Liam might change his mind and stop. He put his hand over Liam's and pressed down in what he hoped was a gesture of encouragement, and it worked because Liam cupped his cock in his palm - and fuck that was good - before returning to the tricky job of button-and-zip-ondoing-whilst-kissing.

Louis realised suddenly that he was not the only horny teenage boy in the room with a cock that needed attention, and also that as the top half of this particular twosome, he held a bit of an advantage in terms of limbs and free movement. He slipped his hand under Liam's t-shirt and tried not to lose his mind at how amazing his stomach muscles felt beneath his fingertips, as he let his hand glide downwards. He ran his fingers just under the waistband of Liam's jeans and elicited the kind of squeak that in normal circumstances would make him rip the piss out his best mate for approximately a decade, but on this particular occasion it made his dick jump.

In some kind of glorious gift from the gods, Liam was in his button fly jeans and with a flick of Louis' super-skilled wrist, he had them undone. He would take several minutes to relish that moment for many weeks to come, primarily during Private Time. At the same time, Liam had mastered Louis' jeans and they both got a hand on each other's still boxer-clad cocks at once. Louis realised they had stopped kissing, and were just panting against each other's faces. Liam must have come to this realisation too, because they laughed breathlessly together for an instant, before Louis launched back in, tongue seeking out Liam's.

With some wriggling and a bit of careful balance to avoid falling ungraciously onto the floor, hands made their way into boxers and - ohgodohgodohgod - that first skin on skin moment with hands on actual cocks was not something Louis would be forgetting in a hurry. He was 99.9% certain Liam hadn't done this with anyone before and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense that he needed to make him feel good, and soon.

He took Liam's cock in his hand properly now, and started to pump him gently, building up the pressure in the way he liked and he sincerely hoped Liam did too. The little throaty noises Liam made in response suggested he did like it, and then he got going with Louis' dick and fuck fuck fuck that was so good. Louis' legs were tensing up beneath him, both with the effort of keeping himself upright over Liam on the stupidly small sofa and the increasing effort not to come before he'd got Liam there. Liam's hand was working over him with just enough force and it was _Liam_ and just so good and right there and _right._

Liam's breath was coming out in these little gaspy puffs, and he realised that his was too.

"Lou..." Liam started, "I'm gonna -"

"Do," whispered Louis, cutting him off, and with a really small moan that made Louis' insides do a happy cartwheel, Liam came over Louis' hand and kind of all over his t-shirt, although Louis tried not to think about that. And then, as he didn't have to think about making Liam feel good anymore, he realised just how close to the edge he was.

Liam panted as he came down from his orgasm, and his hand sped up a little on Louis' dick. Louis' legs were shaking now, and then when Liam licked his tongue into his mouth just so, he couldn't hold back anymore, and came. Hard. And all over Liam's dad's sofa. Ah well.

Louis collapsed on top of Liam, their foreheads pressed together and despite the fact they were totally gross and essentially covered in spunk, they fell into a comfortable kiss-laugh cycle.

"So you like boys then, Li?" Louis said between kiss-laughs.

"I like _a_ boy," Liam corrected him, and Louis' stomach fluttered happily.

Louis reckoned he could live with that.


	14. Chapter 14

Liam and Louis sat at the breakfast bar in Liam's kitchen, eating toast, drinking tea and bumping knees together in companionable silence. Louis was wearing one of Liam's t-shirts, as his own was rather disgustingly covered in jizz - a fact Liam _really_ liked today, despite the fact they'd borrowed each other's clothes a million times before. 

Liam looked up shyly and caught Louis' eye, which made them both giggle a bit. Louis leaned in and gave Liam a buttery kiss and Liam's shyness mostly dissolved. He thought they might be heading for Round Two and so was a touch irritated when Louis' phone started to ring.

Louis picked his mobile off the breakfast bar and raised an apologetic eyebrow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Alright sis?"

He mouthed "Lottie" to Liam, and Liam busied himself putting the plates and mugs in the dishwasher.

"What, now? Shit shit shit. How long have I got do you think? Fuck. OK, OK. Thanks love. Mum and dad aren't back yet then? Cool. Look, can you stall him a bit if you have to? I'm at Liam's, I reckon I can do it in ten if I run. Great, see ya soon."

"Um?" asked Liam, eloquently.

"Going to have to love you and leave you Li, Mr Cowell's on his way round. I'll ring you as soon as I've got it all sorted."

"What?" Liam asked, but Louis was already running around picking up his belongings and shoving his Toms onto his feet.

"Snog you later!" Louis yelled, as the front door banged behind him.

Despite being totally alone, Liam blushed and hid his grin behind his hand.

***

Louis wasn't much of a fan of unforced exercise, but nevertheless set off from Liam's at a fair old gallop. Luckily this time, his aspiration to graceful gazelle-hood was met and his feet did not betray him. He skirted the edge of the park, dodged several dogs and owners, and with intuition he did not know he possessed, also avoided an extending dog lead that could have clothes-lined him and left him possibly maimed for life. He rounded the edge of the crappy football pitches (not a single goal had both posts and a crossbar intact), and ran through the hidden gap in the hedge that led into Paije Richardson's back garden. Ducking out of sight of Paije's kitchen window, he leapfrogged the mercifully low fence like an outdoor, Northern, more attractive version of Dirty Den, and headed up the weed and dog shit strewn back alley. By this point, he could see the turning for his road but the 800m straight stretch before he got there loomed long in front of him.

"Hello Louis!" said a voice across the road.

Louis whipped his head round, and spied his mum's friend Caroline trimming her roses. Of course she was.

"Hi Caroline," Louis said, as he stopped and attempted to sound both casual and not like a dying man.

"Where you off to at that speed, love?" Caroline asked, smiling.

"Oh, nowhere Caroline. Just heading home after school, y'know?"

"Oh, OK, love. You're probably not that arsed to hear that that headmaster of yours has just turned off Kingsway then."

Louis' eyebrows shot up into his forehead and Caroline burst out laughing.

"Go on kid, if you sprint you can make it in the kitchen door I reckon."

Louis gasped a laugh as he set off at top speed again, and yelled "thanks Cazza!" over his shoulder. He cut up the footpath that ran along his cul-de-sac and through the back gate. He could hear an engine cutting off in front of the house and fumbled under the plant pot for the back door key. Bloody hell, why couldn't he find it? Then the door flew open and Lottie hissed "quick, dickhead!" right in his face.

He flung himself into the house with Lottie hot on his heels, as the doorbell rang.

"Sofa!" Lottie yelled.

He swung a right into the living room and saw the sofa of his salvation. His amazing, darling sister of all awesomeness had set out a full Sickbed of Hangingness for him. Two blankets, three dirty mugs, a half empty bowl of soup and a full box of scrunched up used-looking Kleenex. He felt a little bit emotional at the epicness of the scene and the ingenuity that had gone into it.

"Quick!" Lottie stage whispered as the doorbell went for the second time.

Louis dived under the blankets and roughed his hair up with his hands as a last gasp attempt at looking ill. As an afterthought, he smeared a bit of soup down his - or rather Liam's - t-shirt.

"Mr Cowell?" He heard Lottie answer the door with an excellent faux surprised voice.

"Louis? He's really poorly, Sir." Good girl, succinct but not laying it on too thick - yet.

"No, my mum and dad aren't back from work yet. Erm, yeah he's on the sofa." The last bit was 20% louder, he assumed for his benefit. Louis took a deep, preparatory breath.

"Mr Tomlinson," Mr Cowell started as he entered the living room.

"Sir?" Louis croaked, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I came to check on you," Mr Cowell continued, "There have been reports of kidney, liver and heart failure, as well as sightings of you at cricket and cycling events; on various forms of transport, and a selections of the finest drinking establishments of Manchester."

Louis squirreled away a little piece of joy that came from having the kind of reputation that took him to far more places than he could manage to go to within the restraints that geography and physics enforced upon him.

"I've been here," Louis replied simply, gesturing to the detritus of illness surrounding him, "I've got a stomach bug. It's not been pretty."

Mr Cowell wrinkled his nose and paused.

"Hmm. So it appears."

Louis raised his eyebrow challengingly. Then he witnessed in his eyes the very moment that Mr Cowell gave up the fight.

"If you need any coursework sending home, ask Lottie to come and see me and I'll arrange it."

Louis used every mite of self-control he possessed not to break into a grin and jump off the sofa into the air.

"Thanks Sir, I'm hoping to be back soon but that's appreciated."

Lottie showed Mr Cowell out and then dived so violently on Louis while screaming "you tosser!" that he momentarily feared his little liaison with Liam might be their first and last.

"How the fuck do you get away with this shit?" she asked, laughing incredulously.

"The quick thinking Tommo charm!" Louis replied, "and it clearly runs in the family given this little sofa set up and your super-innocent acting with Old Simon. You've so learnt from the master!"

"You owe me big time," Lottie replied, "You better buy me and Lily some Lambrini."

Louis cackled. "I reckon I can manage that, sis."


	15. Chapter 15

Louis felt that apparent victory over Mr Cowell deserved a beverage based celebration.

He called Liam and Harry, who texted Niall and was still with Zayn when Louis had called, and that was, in summary, how the five of them ended up drinking gloriously cheap and reasonably cheerful Holts lager at The Railway at 8 o'clock that night, recounting the day.

"So was there a dead grandma answerphone message to delete?" Louis asked Harry.

Harry's eyes widened and he laughed loudly. "Oh fuck, I haven't been home to check yet!"

"So how did your dad take the car news?" Zayn asked Liam.

"Um... I haven't told him?" Liam replied, with a look that sat somewhere between ashamed and defiant. "I'm just hoping he won't notice for ages and maybe I'll have left home by then and so it will all be fine."

"Excellent deferral of the issue!" Harry said, with a barked laugh, then stopped suddenly as he noticed Louis and Liam's hands suspiciously entwined under the table, "Wait, are you two...?"

Liam blushed the colour of beetroot and even Louis had the grace to look a teeny bit embarrassed.

"Yes," they both replied in small voices, and the other three laughed slightly too raucously for Louis' liking.

"I said it in the car," Zayn said to Harry.

"He did," Harry replied, nodding earnestly.

Louis looked incredulous. "How could you possibly... I mean, I didn't... and you two were eating each other!"

Everyone laughed again, and this time there was no question they were laughing at Louis.

"Wait, who the fuck wooed who by going to the cricket?" Niall asked, looking slightly horrified, "That's the worst wooing ever."

"Less of the wooing, alright?" Louis said, "It's just been one of those days where everything's just sort of happened right.  That's all there is to it."

Harry and Zayn made retching noises, until Louis threw beer mats at them to make them stop.

Niall insisted on getting the grimmest bar snacks he could find with the next round, so Louis told the story of how he'd got away with his big day off whilst the others ingested scampi fries and some particularly hairy looking pork scratchings. Then Louis tried to get some details out of Harry when Zayn went to the loo, but Harry managed to give nothing away whilst looking simultaneously coy and filthy.

Harry and Zayn had in fact spent the rest of the afternoon in bed indulging in highly enthusiastic blowjobs, experimental fingering and numerous rather excellent orgasms.  At one point, when some of Zayn's unfinished artwork got in the way, they had accidentally coated Harry in makeshift bodypaint. This had resulted in them very nearly getting caught sharing a shower by Zayn's dad and two of his younger sisters. Harry wasn't sure who was more terrified but he had hidden in the bathroom for so long after Zayn successfully scarpered, he's pretty sure Zayn's dad now thinks he has terrible bowel problems.


	16. Chapter 16

The evening continued in genial fashion and it didn't feel as though it was the first time they had hung out together as a group of five. Every now and again Louis felt Liam's fingers brush his thigh, or his breath on his neck when he laughed or spoke, and it made his face go hot and his words stopped coming out properly. Which was new and weird, but sort of excellent too.

Niall, Harry and Zayn decided to head into town for the even cheaper lager and shout along tunes of the student palace of indie, Fifth Avenue. Louis would normally have been the chief cheerleader of such a plan, but Liam didn't seem keen and suddenly the plan no longer appealed to him.

"I think I'm going to head home," Liam said quietly, close enough to his face that he could feel his breath tickle his skin, "I'm beat. Tell me all about it tomorrow, yeah?"

Louis smiled quietly. "I don't fancy it either - shall we head home?"

Liam quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm not sure I've _ever_ seen you turn down a club. Genuinely never."

Louis laughed a bit, mostly in recognition that Liam was right. "Well maybe I'm tired too? Maybe I'd just like to walk you home if that's OK?"

Louis tried very hard to ignore the fact Harry and Zayn had now got Niall to join in with their barfing sound effects. Liam's eyes went wide, and then crinkled as a smile adorned his face suddenly, and he swooped in and kissed him, catching Louis unawares but in the best possible way. Niall's retching turned into a very sarcastic wolf whistle.

"Thanks lads, I think that's our cue to make a move," Louis said, and a bystander might be forgiven for saying he almost looked bashful. Liam, on the other hand stood up, gave Louis' particularly peachy arse a rather hefty slap, and attempted a leery wink - failed, because Liam Payne's winks were in fact blinks due to a weird inability to close one eye at a time - over their shoulders at the other three boys.

They walked home very slowly and with a lot of pauses for some quite spectacular snogging. Liam kept surprising Louis by suddenly shoving him into a shop doorway and then devouring his face, tongue searching for his, hands everywhere. Louis had no idea where this forceful, confident Liam had suddenly emerged from but he was praying very hard to a god whose existence he was highly dubious about god he was highly dubious existed that Forceful Confident Liam was here to stay.

By the time they had headed around the corner where Wilmslow Road took a sharp turn, their walk had got a bit awkward as they had started to be severely impaired by their matching erections. This was not something Louis had considered in his mental risk assessment before leaving the pub.

After they crossed the road, Liam suddenly stopped and when Louis looked across at him, the glint in his eye was unmistakable, despite the darkness.  Liam tugged on his arm, mischievously and nodded his head towards the dark cricket pitch. Louis couldn't ever recall seeing Liam looking anything near to mischievous before, and it made him feel extremely nervous - where was his own place in the known universe if Liam became the naughty one? However, Louis suddenly saw the empty, unlit and semi-enclosed stands and realised what Liam was suggesting.

"Liam Payne, you horny little fucker," Louis said, a mixture of wry amusement and awe in his voice.

"Don't even pretend you want to head home like this," Liam said, utterly failing to keep the whine out of his voice.

Louis paused momentarily, grinned at Liam filthily and grabbing his hand, made a run towards the stands. Liam very willingly broke into a gallop and Louis was pretty sure he heard him giggle, thrilled with his own cunning.

Louis climbed up a few benches and before he could settle on one, felt himself spun round and shoved down on a bench towards the back, which benefited from being partially blocked from the view of the road and the clubhouse by a shoulder height wall.

"Liam, what the fuck?" Louis started to ask from the shock of being pushed down roughly, but then Louis shut right up at the sight of Liam dropping to his knees in from of him, maintaining eye contact as he went.

Liam palmed Louis through his jeans, then got to work undoing them and shoving them and his boxers down his thighs. He only gave Louis sufficient time for a gasping in-breath, before his hand and his mouth enveloped his cock and Louis groaned way too loudly for the silent pavilion.

The hot, wet, suction made him feel dizzy and he had to close his eyes to ground himself, fingers digging into the bench to hold himself back from thrusting into Liam's mouth desperately. After a few moments, which could have been seconds or minutes, the feeling stopped and his eyes flew open in dismay. His eyes met Liam's - so phew, he was still there - who still looked like absolute filth and was biting his lip in concentration and wrestling his own flies open to get a hand on his neglected and seriously hard cock.

"Li-" Louis started, by now so turned on he thought stuttering out a single syllable was quite some achievement, but Liam silenced him by taking him straight back into his mouth, left hand helping him out at the base, right hand plunged into his own boxers. Louis couldn't keep his eyes shut if he wanted to now. His eyes couldn't choose where to focus - Liam looking straight up at him, lips stretched round his cock like it was what he was born to do, or his hand down his pants, working himself in time with the rhythm of his mouth on Louis.

Louis allowed himself the luxury of taking one white-knuckled hand off the bench, cupping it round Liam's head and was rewarded with a throaty groan, the vibrations of which pushed Louis closer to his orgasm.

"Fuck, Liam, your mouth, amazing," Louis started babbling, "You're gonna make me come so hard."

Liam moaned appreciatively, and it was enough to get Louis there, coming in hot spurts down Liam's throat.  Liam pulled off just in time for the last couple of pulses to hit the side of his mouth, and Louis stared, gulping in a couple of breaths and unable to move as Liam slumped slightly into his lap for his final few strokes of his own cock. Louis regained the power of movement in time to tip Liam's head up by the chin, swipe his own come away with his thumb, and look at his face just as he came. He looked so beautiful it took the breath he had only just regained away again. His Liam. Liam who had been there forever. What the actual fuck.

They sprawled there in awkward and heavily incriminating positions for a moment, breathing heavily before Louis hauled Liam up beside him, kissing the taste of himself out of his mouth.

Liam looked over to him, and grinned, heavy lidded in the treacle limbed haze of his orgasm come-down, and they laughed softly at each other. Louis put his arm round Liam, pulling him in closer to him, their legs tangling a little. Strangely, he felt more hesitant doing that than he did about having his dick in Liam's mouth. As if somehow, bizarrely, it was more intimate.

"How did you learn to do _that_?" Louis asked, both incredulously and admiringly.

Liam shrugged and chuckled. "Internet," he replied croakily, with a slightly cocky shrug.

"Jesus Christ, there's literally a YouTube tutorial for everything these days," Louis pondered, mainly to himself.

They sat quietly for a few moments.

"I think I'm pretty glad I decided to get out of bed this morning now," Liam said, voice rough and wrecked, "As days go, it's been a pretty surprising one."

Louis laughed into Liam's side.

"Good surprise I hope?"

Liam laughed back eyes crinkling again, and kissed him roughly on the forehead.

"Yeah Lou, good surprise."

***

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading. Feedback much appreciated, concrit welcomed.


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